


Lunch in an Elevator

by ThisIsMyVoice



Category: The Good Wife (TV)
Genre: Angst, Female Friendship, Gen, Hints of Fluff, lol my imagination is weird, lunch in an elevator
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-09-11
Updated: 2014-09-11
Packaged: 2018-02-17 00:07:17
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,825
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2289716
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ThisIsMyVoice/pseuds/ThisIsMyVoice
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>They risk a glance at each other at the same time and when their eyes meet, there is a jolt of surprise, of electricity. Then their eyes dart away quickly as the threat of something more surges between them. The air is suddenly heavy with the weight of things left unsaid.<br/>so basically, this is what went through my head when i saw the username lunchinanelevator. please be aware that this story in no way depicts the actual elevator/ lunching habits of lunchinanelevator so...yeah, just needed to get that out there:D .</p>
            </blockquote>





	Lunch in an Elevator

A woman sits cross legged, the contents of an unpacked lunch – box around her: wrapped sandwiches, opened cans of coke, small containers of yoghurt and a sprinkling of fruit and in the midst of it all. She’s munching away and as she chews, she stares around absently at the inside of the elevator, the lights at the top casting a bright golden glow on the inside of the metal box.

I imagine this is how she comes up with all her stories, a notepad and pencil resting on her thigh.

I imagine this is where they all start – every single word of Alicia and Kalinda; that every single page she has ever written begins here.

There is the ding of the elevator doors, and in her mind’s eye, she sees them. It is Alicia and Kalinda, standing together, waiting for the elevator to rise. The silence between them is tense, unyielding and heavy with things left unsaid. There is a conscious effort not to catch the other’s eyes, not to do anything that would count as engagement, as starting a conversation.

Kalinda struggles not to fidget, but can’t help shifting her weight from foot to foot, fingering her notebook, checking her phone, and periodically, her eyes slide, slowly, cautiously to peek at Alicia’s stiff figure beside her, then quickly snap back to stare at the elevator doors. She takes a deep breath.

Alicia’s hand tightens around the strap of her bag until it feels like it’s fused into her palm. She’s stiff, tight, bound by her own air of injured self- righteousness. Even if she wanted to look at the woman next to her, lay down the accusations, and the hurt, and the you slept with my husband long enough to ask a question as simple as are you okay? She can’t because she drew the battle lines, she made the rules and now she can’t just waltz over to the enemy camp like its nothing, and then cross back. The more tempted she is to, the more she withdraws into herself, the higher her chin lifts, the tighter her spine becomes. Periodically, she allows the slightest twitch of her left eye in Kalinda’s direction and then pulls it back to the elevator doors, resolute, despite how difficult it is to ignore her. She takes a deep breath. Then there is a ding and the elevator doors are sliding open and each releases silent breaths of relief for different reasons – Kalinda, that she could escape Alicia’s icy, tightly- wound frigidness – a silent accusation in and of itself, a constant reminder of a now sickening mistake, born of necessity; Alicia, that she could escape Kalinda’s nearness, the temptation to reach out a hand to the other woman, brush her arm, nudge her with an elbow, and just say… “Hey,”

“I kind of miss you”

“I hope you’re okay.”

Or if those would be too great blows to her still sore pride, maybe just… “hey”

She was fighting the temptation to forgive Kalinda for something that was never really her fault anyway. (because peter had a choice, an obligation, a commitment to her and she… _gets_ …why Kalinda didn't bring it up, vague alarm bells ringing every time she thought about he helped you change your name, and then you slept with him) (The and then makes all the difference in the world in a sickening, aching, I’m sorry even though I’m not quite sure what I’m sorry for, kind of way) But Alicia’s determined to hold onto her anger, determined in a way that could have been impressive if it wasn't so damaging, to both their hearts. She prefers it though, her coldness to the searing pain of her hurt, her pride to any comfort, any apology (and in her eyes, any pity) Kalinda can give because in spite of everything, this woman that claimed to be her friend, that had in the beginning maybe even been something of a mentor –someone that Alicia admired, someone that she could trust had looked her in the face and lied to her and as irritated and I don’t quite fit well enough in my own skin - everything that i have ever known about my marriage for the last eighteen years is crumbling around me - raw that she had felt at the time, when Kalinda had said nothing happened…she’d believed her.

Like a fool.

They move for the doors at the same time and like a river parting at a bend, flow silently in different directions down the hallway. The woman in the elevator watches. sighs. shakes her head at them. and watches some more.

* Sometimes, the silence is less tense, less frigid, less constrained and more awkward. There is progressively, day by day, elevator ride by elevator ride a gradual thaw that is both subtle and yet glaringly obvious.

They are still unwilling to catch each other’s eyes and so Kalinda’s gaze traces the floor instead, noting the glowing patterns the reflecting light makes on the ground. Alicia’s eyes trace the ceiling, noting the dark shadows that exist in the corners of elevators, shrinking from the light. Eventually, they switch gazes, and Kalinda’s looking up, Alicia down. Sometimes their gaze roams round and round but carefully, never reaching the other, slipping over and around – like for those few seconds in time, they have become, to each other, Kalinda and Alicia shaped holes- in- the- universe.

It could be funny,

if it wasn't so sad.

Sometimes, they say nothing, and the elevator doors open and they flow out.

Sometimes, the desire to reach out to Kalinda builds until Alicia breaks first, the slightest crack, offers a hesitant “hey,” still staring at anywhere but Kalinda. In those times Kalinda jerks, ever so slightly, startled by the sound of her voice. Her heart speeds up in her chest until the rapid – thud- thud- thud of it fills her ears. It is an effort to send her own soft, “hey” back. Sometimes, they risk a glance at each other at the same time and when their eyes meet, there is a jolt of surprise, of something like electricity. Then their eyes dart away quickly as the threat of saying, or doing more surges between them.The air is suddenly heavy with the weight of things left unsaid.

There is a silence at those times; a Kalinda biting her lip, Alicia Florrick shifting, pulse quickening, heart thumping slow-building panic of what do I say next silence. And then, from nowhere, because she couldn’t not ask it - because she wanted to, needed to know - a quiet “how are you doing?” from Alicia, her voice as neutral as possible. It’s too carefully uninterested to fool anybody.

The woman in the elevator sees through her and smiles on the outside.

Kalinda Sharma sees through her and smiles on the inside; a small smile, a slight smile.

A trembling, single ray of sunlight breaking through the clouds smile.

Alicia still isn't looking at Kalinda, but Kalinda finds she doesn't mind. She’ struggling to suppress the emotions that are trying to break through, thinks that there are a hundred different answers to that question, each more revealing, more vulnerable than the last and she swallows them all down, reaches out for safe ground. ”I'm okay” she responds, her voice hoarse from the something like joy, something like pain, something like gratitude, raw and unfiltered that is rising up her throat.

Alicia detects it, sees through her too. There’s the slightest twitching of an eyebrow, the slightest flicker in her eyes and the mothering instinct in her wants her to turn her head and _look_ , to see for herself that she was really alright. The betrayed wife and friend and colleague inside her smothers it with a pillow. There is a slow frosting over of her eyes, a conscious hardening, a creeping tension, but it has not yet reached her voice when she says, “That’s good.”

And she means it.

There’s another silence then; a heartbeat. Four. and then Kalinda is using up whatever remains of her courage to ask “you?” And it is a shaky, trembling olive branch of a peace offering.

Alicia knows how easy it would be to just ignore it, move on or better yet, swat it out of her hands and stomp on it with both feet. There’s a part of her that still wants to punish, to hurt, and to hate. The other part, the part that has her swallowing too, talking around the tennis ball in her throat…grabs hold of it, gently. “Yeah,” she says and her voice is barely above a whisper too, but Kalinda hears. “I’m good.”

“good. i'm...” Kalinda, struggles for a word, "glad."

And it is…good. And she is glad. (she is lot of other things as well, but Alicia doesn't want to hear them and so she will never tell)

It’s…a cathartic moment.

A breathing out moment.

A risked glance –barest-hint-of-a-smile moment. 

And then there is a ding and the doors are open and Alicia is breezing out, leaving Kalinda to struggle to pull back that enigmatic calm she has cultivated so well for all these years. She swallows, takes a deep, slightly shaky breath and wills the burning behind her eyes away. There's nothing she can do about her smile though (all the self-control in the world couldn't remove it), the tiny smile that settles on her lips as she watches the other woman walk away. 

It means absolutely _nothing_ and at the same time _everything_ because maybe, just maybe it’s the rebirth of the _something_ that they once had...

Then Kalinda too is gone and the woman in the elevator shakes her head, grins and takes a huge, satisfying bite of her apple. 

Each time, they enter, there is something different to be seen - past, present, and future. 

She has seen tequila fueled laughter, and little snorting giggles and prank phone calls to Cary Agos in the middle of the night like two teenagers, she has seen spare clothes, and cases of beer and boxes of pizza held in hands - one pair snowy white, one pair a honeyed brown - as they head up to settle in for an all-nighter. she has seen shuddering, heart-wrenching breakdowns against the walls of this elevator as leather protected hearts shatter; She has seen Kalinda Sharma’s slow, sexy, delighted smiles at something particularly _wicked_ Alicia Florrick said and Alicia’s spreading blushes with a defiant sparkle in her eyes. she has seen the cold war and she has seen the thaw, slow and gradual. 

Every time she enters this elevator, she sees something different, but one thing that remains the same is that each and every time, no matter what she sees, the woman pops her last piece of fruit into her mouth, wipes her fingers against her jeans, and picking up her pencil, begins to write. 

It really does pay to have lunch in an elevator. ;)


End file.
